


Reasons to Love the Rain

by Cakepopple



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, established klance, kiss fic, klance, there's a tag for that???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 15:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20548802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakepopple/pseuds/Cakepopple
Summary: Lance has always loved the rain. What he loves more, though? An excuse to cuddle up to his boyfriend. He figures it's not too much to ask for both.Based on an anon ask I sent to nisekoi on tumblr: "I think Lance is the type of person to purposely 'forget' his umbrella when it rains, just so he can share Keith’s 🤭 Keith knows exactly what Lance is doing, but he doesn’t complain"





	Reasons to Love the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I sent a lil anon ask to nisekoi on tumblr, and I really liked the idea, so I sat down one afternoon and coughed this up like a hairball.  
Honestly, it turned out alright!!
> 
> The ask:  
"I think Lance is the type of person to purposely 'forget' his umbrella when it rains, just so he can share Keith’s 🤭 Keith knows exactly what Lance is doing, but he doesn’t complain"

****In early autumn rain, the earth smells something divine and Lance’s heart beats something light and warm. 

Though he's had various reasons to enjoy them throughout his life, Lance has always loved the humid and gentle storms of the cooler months. When he was little, he loved them because every now and then, the heavy rain would flood the streets, and school would be cancelled. When he started going to the Garrison, he loved the storms because they reminded him of afternoons back home, of whiling away countless evenings, sitting on the porch with his brothers and sisters, swatting at mosquitoes. And when he first became a paladin, he loved and missed the rain because, when he thought of it, he could smell it in his memories, nostalgic and familial, despite how unattainable it had been. 

Now that he’s home, he still loves the rain, but for a thoroughly different reason.

“What do you _ mean _ the parking garage is full?” Lance sits in the passenger seat and he stares sightlessly at his phone screen, trying to distract himself from laughing at Keith’s exasperation. His boyfriend has the window rolled down, and his hands are tight around the steering wheel, which is clearly the one thing keeping him from going off the deep end. In his peripheral, Lance can only see the back of his head. Lance notices how the mere twenty seconds or so the window has been open has made Keith’s hair entirely drenched. “These are spots for the event, right?” Lance glances up from his phone to see the woman inside the booth nod, face taut and nervous. “The event celebrating the paladins of Voltron,” Keith clarifies, and she nods again; she’s even more sheepish. “_We’re _ the paladins of Voltron!” And now, Keith throws his hands in the air, and they clap limply down against the horn. Sharply, it honks, before his fingers return to strangling the edge of the wheel. Finally, Lance gives in to the ridiculousness of the racket and snickers into his palm.

Keith gives him a downright _ nasty _ look.

The woman in the booth slips a hand out of her box, pointing down the road the duo pulled up from. “There’s another parking garage a couple blocks down,” she suggests weakly. 

The groan Keith musters makes Lance snort loudly. Begrudgingly, Keith puts the car in reverse, but keeps his foot on the break until he has the chance to bitterly murmur, “But it’s raining.” 

One hand releases the wheel to wipe water off of his face before he rolls the car out of the driveway, nose wrinkled in frustration. 

“It’s okay,” Lance says. “We’ve got umbrellas in the back seat! A couple blocks is nothing us paladins of Voltron can’t handle.” Keith flicks him a sidelong glance, perhaps meant to be snide, but it comes out mild. To reenforce his point, Lance is the one who offers to walk in the rain to the back seat for the umbrellas, once Keith finds a place to park. And when he’s halfway into the second row of seats, he conveniently pretends he’s just remembered his umbrella isn’t there (It’s safely tucked into his closet back home, where no one will think to ‘helpfully’ find it—but Keith doesn’t need to know that). He passes the singular umbrella up to his boyfriend in the front. “I guess I left mine at home,” he remarks, pretending to be absent minded about the statement, when the intention of this ‘accident’ is clearly scrawled in the smile on his lips. 

Keith’s mood changes so quickly, Lance thinks he might have broken the sound barrier.

“Oh?” Keith leans over the center console of the car, face pressing close to where Lance’s bunched cheeks hover on the other side. He takes the umbrella, a smooth and devious grin blooming on his face, and one of his brows twitches upward in mock question. Yet comprehension is written in his eyes; he doesn’t need to ask how Lance had supposedly forgotten. His fingers twiddle along the handle of the umbrella. His eyes drift up and down Lance’s face. His lips quirk back, so his teeth shine through his smile. “Is that so,” he breathes, and Lance doesn’t shrink the pride on his features, though he’s begun to feel a sweeping warmth dancing up his spine. The tickling sensation pushes him forward—his nose brushes with Keith’s—so he can peck his boyfriend on his cupid’s bow. Rolling his eyes, Keith opens his car door and pops his umbrella undone as he slips out. 

Lance follows him, scurrying to catch up to Keith. Not so much as a heartbeat after he gets there, Keith compensates for the need to share the umbrella. He lifts his arm so Lance can shimmy his shoulders under it, and Lance smooths a kiss on his cheek in thanks. 

Their sides are flush; Lance relishes in the contact. They’ve got half an hour before the event they’re here for begins, so Lance is in no rush to escape the rain. Not if it means leaving Keith’s touch behind. He fully intends to savor every moment of contact he can. 

It’s unfair how warm Keith’s skin manages to be. Constantly. There is a perpetual drive deep in Lance’s stomach—and at the base of his skull, in the curve of his spine, along the tips of his fingers, _ everywhere_—to be close to Keith. One moment, he feels the desire to tangle his hands in Keith’s hair, to brush his palms over his boyfriend’s warm scalp. And then, right as he begins to consider satisfying the impulse, he’s struck with the need to kiss somewhere else, like his shoulder. Or to lean his cheek there, or to simply rest his chin along the fabric of his shirt, if only to breathe closer to him. Once again, though, Lance simmers with a different inclination. This time, maybe it’s to hold Keith’s hand, to kiss his nose, to kiss the tip of his ear. There’s an unsatisfiable itch to shut his eyes and enjoy basking in the body heat Keith is so willing to share. One craving comes after another, after another, all for the sole purpose of being _ close _ to Keith. The mere _ idea _ of fulfilling those wants tastes intoxicating. 

And yes, Lance knows Keith’s heat isn’t really the reason he’s pining.

Keith hums to himself, seemingly no longer peeved by the storm. Lance selfishly thinks—profoundly wants to believe—it’s because his boyfriend also enjoys the lack of distance between them. He greedily hopes Keith also feels the buzz of affection in all his joints at the comfort they share. Pleads the feeling is something familiar for Keith, like it is for Lance.

Lance feels the same about Keith now as he’d felt about rain while in space. He’d swallowed the lump of longing in his throat while among the stars, a longing formed from the sheer intensity with which he’d needed to feel the rain against his skin. And now, that sensation is doubled; it’s the desperation with which he chases after Keith’s touch. Keith’s hands, addictive and gentle on his nape when they kiss, Keith’s scalp under his scrabbling fingers when they pull apart, Keith’s lips on his neck, Keith’s teeth when he smiles against the same spot. 

The intensity haunts him, even now, though there’s not a millimeter of distance between them.

When Lance stares up at his ceiling in bed at night, he thinks of Keith, like he used to stare at the stars through a window of the castleship and think of Earth. Of home. 

Yeah, he thinks that’s what Keith is.

Home.

“You’re completely transparent, you know,” Keith says softly. Lance turns to him, suddenly ensnared by the intimacy in his voice and his tender, half-lidded eyes. Keith stares at the inside of the umbrella as he talks, following the silhouetted trails of raindrops as they drip in swirls down the plastic. His expression is truly immeasurably fond. Lance knows it’s not the rain he’s fond of. Every day, Keith makes it clear just what he loves so much.

Lance smiles, watches the droplets with Keith for a while, then nudges his boyfriend with his elbow. “Would you rather I play hard to get again?” There’s mirth in Keith’s gaze when he lets it fall across Lance. And the usual sweet, fixated adoration. He switches which of his hands holds the umbrella so he can tangle their fingers together. 

Quietly, like it’s the rain whispering to Lance, Keith says, “No.” He leans over to kiss Lance’s temple. Something so simple makes something so complex and pleasant knot in Lance’s gut. Wrinkling his nose and eagerly accepting the touch, he laughs, and then sighs when Keith moves to look at the expanse of sidewalk ahead of them once more. “No, I like what we have now,” he reiterates. 

“Yeah,” Lance says. His response is almost too smothered in love to understand. As if Lance’s love is gallons upon gallons of sugar water, and his voice is a bubble sifting and wobbling to the top. Keith doesn’t seem bothered by it.

Silence gingerly takes their walk, leaving Lance to his thoughts of Keith’s scarred cheek and his touch, which carves soft, endearing scars all along Lance’s heart. And then Keith speaks again, passing the umbrella to Lance. “Hold this,” he mutters. Lance does, wincing at the chill of the metal handle, and he glares at his grip on the item, as if he can blame his fingertips for being cold. Then, there are even colder fingers on his cheeks. 

The umbrella is tight in Lance’s hold, clenched desperately, because he is certain that as soon as he begins to loosen his hands, it’s as good as gone. Keith’s fingers are splayed across his cheekbones, thumbs drawing circles close to his lips. That motion alone has Lance ready to fall over, his heart pounding so fast that the umbrella trembles. And when Keith slides one hand to Lance’s chin, it pushes a lovestruck note past the tightness of Lance’s throat, curled to sound like his boyfriend’s name. 

Tugging Lance closer with his icy hold, Keith presses their lips together, and Lance’s hands itch to touch Keith. His arms shake, begging to wrap around his boyfriend’s neck. And when fingers knot in the back of Lance’s shirt, he arches his chest closer, compensating for the contact his hands can’t satisfy. One of Keith’s palms remains where it had initially flattened against Lance’s jaw, and its fingers curl to the tender spot behind Lance’s ear. At the same time, Keith smooths their lips to just the right angle, so the two can feel the perfect amount of proximity. His lips are the perfect warmth, and his hands are the perfect pressure, and his taste is the perfect blend of sweet and strong. And Lance feels himself falling, losing his grip on his focus, slipping away into the hold Keith has on his cheeks and his spine and his heart—

The umbrella slides from his hands.

Keith pulls apart—Lance murmurs an incoherent, desperate sound of pleading as he pursues his boyfriend’s retreat—and stares downward, at the item’s impact. He shakes his leg, nodding at the stains the umbrella’s splash left on his pants. “Aw, man,” he mutters, only a fraction of sincerity in his voice. “They’re ruined.” Lance shakes his head. 

“They are definitely not ruined! It’s just water.” His head is still dizzy, like he’s barely woken up (which isn’t that far off), and his words come out shaky. Though he knows he ought to pick the umbrella up, he still wants to brush his fingers through Keith’s hair, and his hands are finally free to do so. The desire is _ so strong, _but he resists, instead reaching for the umbrella. Keith snatches it first and captures Lance’s grasping fingers with his other hand. He uses the tangle of their fingers to draw Lance along as he lifts the umbrella up over their heads.

“First you take my umbrella, then you drop it,” he quips. Yet his arm lifts for Lance to snuggle under again as they walk, despite the bite in his words. “Next time you forget your umbrella, I’m making you walk in the rain.” But he’s still got Lance completely under the shared umbrella, even though one of his shoulders is is out of the cover to make space for him. With his free hand, Lance pushes the umbrella so it’s split equally between them.

Smugly, he shakes his head. “You wouldn’t.” And Keith looks at him, blinking slowly and narrowing his eyes. Lance gives him a loving smile, spreading all his affection and all his gratefulness along the part in his lips. Keith slyly returns the grin, slow, as if it’s something he doesn’t want to admit. As if he doesn’t want to agree quickly. But Lance knows—in this moment, more than he knows anything else—that his assumption is right. The love in Keith’s actions is too formidable to push aside; Keith would never deny him anything. All he needs to do is ask.

Keith brings their joined hands to his lips to kiss Lance’s knuckles. The yearning in Lance’s stomach simmers for the hundredth time in the last hour, boiling over in an instant, until Lance is lightheaded and mindless all over again. He’s so thankful. Overwhelmingly, heart stoppingly thankful, because there’s nowhere he’d rather be than here, nothing he’d rather be doing than walking alongside Keith. Because it’s Keith. It’s always Keith. He swears it always _ will _ be Keith. His favorite place will always be right where he is at this moment: nestled as close to his boyfriend as he can physically be.

Lance has always loved the rain. It was a memory he cherished while he was away from home, a piece of Earth he took with him across every galaxy he could ever imagine, tucked safely in his heart. It had been the smell of his childhood, the smell of a home he couldn’t reach. Now, it’s an excuse to do things he doesn’t need excuses to do. An excuse to be close to Keith, even though he knows he’ll be received with open arms no matter what.

“You’re right,” Keith says. He releases Lance’s hand to card his own through the hair stuck to Lance’s forehead. His eyes are deep and loving and infinitely sentimental. He kisses the spot he’d revealed, and when he pulls away he’s looking directly into Lance’s eyes, smiling. Rain is on his cheeks, in his hair, dotting his lips like twinkling beads of blown glass. The ones in his hair glow the same shade as his eyes. They catch the light, but their hold on the sun is nowhere near as magnetic as the hold Keith has on Lance’s stuttering heart. Squeezing, but in the sweetest, most doting way, until nothing is left in his lungs but the honeyed scent of their intoxicating love. “You’re definitely right. I never would. I’ll take any excuse I can to hold you. I love you too much to deny you anything.”

Catching Keith’s hand, Lance grins as he swings their arms a few times. He sings, “I know! I love you, too, you beautiful sucker!” Keith laughs and his hand squeezes around Lance’s, pulling them both tighter together. The taste of love is sugary in Lance’s mouth, vivid enough to stay with him for days.

Yeah.

Lance definitely loves the rain. 

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa I hope you liked it!! If you did, feel free to leave comments and kudos :)
> 
> P.S. to all y'all who follow my thicc fic rn (lol I mean IBYKSAYBM), I promise I am definitely working on it!! I have a fat chunk done rn!! I've got like two more major events to write up, and then it'll be ready!! 
> 
> (P.S. 2.0... I got diagnosed with depression like uhh two days ago?? Which I'm really excited about cuz it means, in a few weeks, I can see a doctor about meds!! :) and I'm hoping that means I'll be more motivated to balance school, work, this account, and all my different tumblrs (rip my sleep tho), but it could also mean I get a boost in the sad because meds are trial and error ya know?? I just wanted to let y'all know because I'm not sure how that'll affect my confidence in my writing, and thus how often I post! idk if any of y'all care about my personal life tho lolol I'm just some stranger behind a screen ;0)


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